


Stars

by trickster_relation



Category: Gintama
Genre: Major Original Character(s), Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-03-30 02:25:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3919330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trickster_relation/pseuds/trickster_relation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Just a recap of the first few episodes of Gintama, honestly. And a bit of internal turmoil, really....</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. General History

“You really let yourself get beat up there nii-san.” The child chided, placing a band-aid on the man’s cheek as gently as he could, “It’s been a while.”  
“Hmph.” His brother muttered, refusing to raise his eyes from the floor, “There wasn’t much I could do.”  
“Liar.”  
The man glanced up at the word, “What?”  
“You didn’t even draw your sword. You could have easily cut them down.”  
“You’re too young to understand.” He sighed, patting the child on the head, “Thanks for treating me.”  
“Nii-san…” the child trailed off, reaching out to grab the end of his brother’s sleeve as he got up.  
“What is it?”  
“You won’t have to worry about those thugs, next time.”  
“Hm?”  
“Next time, I’ll cut them down for you!”  
“Without a sword?”  
The child glared up at him, the pout returning, “I do have a sword.” He pointed to the weapon hanging at his brother’s belt, “I won that from you.”  
“When?”  
“Last week.” He eyed his brother suspiciously, “You remember, don’t you?”  
“That was a game of rock-paper-scissors.” His brother protested, instinctively reaching out to place a hand on the weapon.  
“And just when I thought your horrible luck was good for something other than losing money…” the child muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.  
“Did Takasugi teach you how to talk back like that?”  
The child stuck out his tongue at his brother, “Taka-nii’s way better than you, nii-san.”  
“You little—“his brother broke off with a heavy sigh, but smiled anyways, “All right. I’ll give it to you.”  
“Really?”  
“On one condition.” The child nodded, the afternoon light gleaming in his eyes.  
“I’ll give it to you, if you can get the forms down with a wooden sword first.”  
“Promise?”  
“Promise.”  
The child hesitated for a moment, before sticking his little finger up to his brother, “Pinky-promise.”  
“What? You can’t trust your own brother?” he mocked offense, laughing as the child stuck his tongue out at him again.  
“Just do it.”  
The man crouched down, interlocking his own finger with the child’s “I promise, ok?”  
“Ok!”

The child twirled the leaf between his fingers, a slow smile spreading over his face, “Look, isn’t it pretty?” he held it out to a tabby cat curled up on the porch beside him. The cat blinked disdainfully, and tucked its head back down again, it’s breathing quickly evening out. “Fine, then.” The child muttered, turning his attention back to the leaf.  
“What are you doing out here?”  
The child tilted his head back, scowling slightly, “I’m waiting for nii-san to finish fighting with Taka-nii.”  
“Hm…” the man trailed off, “Can I sit?”  
The child shrugged, “If you want to.”  
“You seem upset.”  
“I’m bored.”  
The man sighed, “You could always practice.”  
“Nii-san told me he’d practice with me, but I don’t even have my own sword yet, and he never says it’s a good time.” the child drew his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. He continued to twirl the leaf, fixing his stare onto it, “I don’t think he likes me anymore.”  
“Of course he does.” The man shook his head, “Gintoki’s just stupid like that.”  
The child nodded silently, but didn’t respond.  
The man hesitated, before changing the subject, “So, what’s with the leaf?”  
“I dunno.” The child muttered, “I kinda want to keep it.”  
“Then why don’t you?”  
“Cause it’s gonna wilt.”  
The man held out his hand, “Give me the leaf.”  
The child looked up, tilting his head slightly, and placed the leaf in the man’s hand. The man flipped to the middle of the book he was holding, and placed the leaf gently between the pages, “The paper soaks up all the water from the leaf, and it’ll be preserved like it looks now.”  
“Really?”  
“Really.” The man grinned at the child, “I’ll give it to you once it’s ready.”  
The child sprang up, throwing his arms around the man’s neck, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he cheered, “Zura-san, you’re definitely the best!”  
“It’s Katsura.”  
“What are you guys doing?” a voice drawled from behind the child.  
“Zura-san’s gonna preserve a leaf for me, nii-san.” the child beamed at his brother, turning around to face him.  
“Huh.” Gintoki’s expression was still impassive, “Let’s go home.”  
“Right.” The child’s face fell slightly, but he trudged obediently to his brother’s side.  
“Oh, and here.” Gintoki held out a wooden sword to the child, “I got it on a trip. You can have it to practice with.”  
The child nearly head butted his brother, burying his face into his clothes as he laughed, “Thanks, nii-san.”

Gintoki stirred slightly as the light from the crack between the doors landed on his face.  
“Nii-san?” a tentative voice asked, the door sliding open slightly further.  
It was a moment before the man could gather his bearings to answer the child, “What do you want, Aki?”  
“Er—I was just wondering…” the child looked down at his feet, “if I could…”  
“You’re too old to sleep with me. Go back to your room.” the man groaned, flipping over to bury his face in his pillow, “And close the door.”  
“But nii-san, tomorrow, you’ll—“the child faltered again, his voice wavering slightly.  
His brother sighed, and rolled over again, “All right. Just tonight, ok?”  
The child squealed with joy as he burrowed under the covers of his brother’s bed, all signs of his previous hesitation gone.  
“Close the—never mind.” Gintoki shifted over to his side to drape his arm around the child, allowing him to press closer to him, smiling unconsciously as the child hummed happily, his forehead pressed against his brother’s shoulder.  
Silence filled the room again, and the man was drifting off to sleep, when the child mumbled blearily, “Nii-san, why’re you wearing your armor?”  
“I have to leave early tomorrow.”  
“I don’t want you to go.” The child admitted quietly, hiding his face in the folds of his brother’s clothes.  
“Why?”  
He was shaking slightly now, “What if you don’t come back?”  
Gintoki started, opening his mouth to answer, but couldn’t. He had never thought about the possibility he may never return. It wasn’t that he was overly arrogant of his own abilities, but he genuinely never thought that he would be able to leave his brother to fend for himself. Even if he knew he was going to be away for long, never returning wasn’t a possibility.  
“I’ll come back.” He finally stated, his voice more confident than he expected.  
“Promise?” the child still had his face hidden, but lifted his hand to wave his little finger at his brother.  
“Promise.” Gintoki answered, linking his finger with the child’s.  
When dawn broke, he carefully disentangled himself from the child, trying not to stir him. It would be much easier for the both of them if he was to sneak away without a word.  
“Just wait, Aki.” He whispered, “When I come back, I’ll have won this war for you.”  
He trudged down the path along with a number of other young men, swords drawn, watching the sun rise slowly over the horizon.

Although the human army was dwindling, there were still many men in the troop that he had decided to join, lead by Sakamoto, an old friend, and slightly reassuring face. All the men there had their own reasons for fighting—most of them wanted to protect their country and land from being taken by the invaders. But Gintoki couldn’t claim anything as noble. He honestly didn’t feel any loyalty to the land or the government. His brother lived on it, and his friends were determined enough to fight for it. That was enough for him.  
It wasn’t the first time Gintoki had seen the battlefield, so it didn’t take him long to slide into a rhythm he had known in ancient history. His skills had considerably dulled—he couldn’t swing his sword as accurately as he had before, but he still tore through battle viciously.  
Gintoki knew he belonged on the battlefield. Chilling excitement coursed through his veins, forcing his heart to beat faster, matching the pace of the screams echoing across the land. It was as if he was born to kill. He began to be rumored amongst the enemy—never his actual name, but the title Shiroyasha, white demon. Along with him, the rest of the regiment began to gain infamy. The leaders of the Joui movement: the undefeatable Katsura Kotaro, leader of the Kaientai, Sakamoto Tatsuma, and leader of the Kihetai, Takasugi Shinsuke.  
The Amanto, with their guns and lasers from the furthest corners of the universe were afraid of the samurai.  
The man found it amusing, in a slightly morbid way. Their army was only equipped with steel swords and what little firepower and arsenal they could scrap together from remains in the fields or steal from the Amanto. And yet, they managed to be powerful enough to be labeled terrorists by the Amanto and the Bakufu. As the war grew longer, they made a new enemy—their country itself.  
Gintoki couldn't remember the last time he had seen the sun without faint smoke from the battles rising to cover it.  
He was confused when the name Shiroyasha began to be whispered by the enemies more and more frequently, when before, he believed it was taboo for the Amanto to admit that a human was stronger than them. Then on the battlefield, creatures he had never faced in his life before spat out his title as they tore at his throat, swearing retribution. He didn’t let them explain themselves further before he cut out their guts.  
When he brought it up over drinks at night to the rest, they just brushed it off, saying that he probably forgot a lot of the Amanto he faced. He didn’t know what he looked like fighting, but everyone claimed they forgot he was human. The Shiroyasha settled on this as well—he had gotten his name because of his silver hair and white clothes he wore during battle. It couldn’t have been anyone else imitating him.

The entire case had slipped from his mind until one sticky, hot August day. A battle had erupted not too far from their base, and their regiment had to come in as backup. Even with their regiment supporting, the numbers of the Amanto didn’t seem to dwindle, and their men soon began to collapse one after the other out of pure exhaustion. The heat was stifling, making it hard to even breathe, let alone move under twenty pounds of armor to swing a hunk of sharpened metal. Gintoki just wanted to sink to the ground and close his eyes, but his legs didn’t let him, forcing him along through the carnage.  
The battle began to die down, and it seemed inevitable that they would lose this time. It was then he saw the flash of white out of the corner of his eyes. He only had seconds to dismiss it from his mind as light catching on Sakamoto’s helmet, before dodging the blast from a laser cannon aimed at nothing in particular.  
Gintoki had expected the battle to be over quickly, but it continued to drag on, the samurai only further wasting lives as a new wave of Amanto took the place of the one they had just cut down. As he fought, struggling to empty everything from his mind, other than the shift of his feet and movement of the opponent, he continued to glimpse the white here and there in the battle. Gintoki didn’t have time to think about it, before he was surrounded by the Amanto, all ugly as fuck with dog or boar heads, and all glaring at him like they wanted to rip his head off.  
“Zura, on my count, charge to break their ranks.” Gintoki muttered under his breath to the person pressed against his back, warily keeping his eyes fixed on the Amanto. He assumed the other was Katsura, who somehow always managed to get into the worst situation with him.  
“Sorry I’m not Zura-san, wherever he is.” The person behind him laughed slightly, “But I can still do that.”  
Gintoki whirled around, and it took him less than a second to recognize who it was behind him, “What are you doing here, you idiot?!” he roared, struggling to be heard over the explosions.  
The person gave him a slight smile, “I suggest raising your sword, nii-san. This is a tricky situation you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Gintoki paced restlessly in the tent back at the base, his hand raised to his chin, grumbling under his breath. His little brother was helping treat the wounds of the other soldiers, and had told him that they’d talk afterwards. But it had nearly been three hours, and there was no sign that anyone was near the area where the tents were set up, let alone his brother.  
At least it gave him time to think—why was the idiot here? In the middle of battle?  
He had at least another hour to ponder the thought before his brother ducked into the tent, peeling the rubber gloves from his hands, and tucking them into his pocket. Although he had been gone for so long, he was still as filthy and soaked through with blood as the man had seen him in battle, maybe even more so.  
“What are you doing here, idiot?” the man asked again, unable to keep his voice amiable.  
His brother retied the strip of cloth meant to keep the sweat and blood from his eyes expertly around his forehead again, and smiled, “You didn’t come home, so I came to you, nii-san.” he said, as if it was the simplest thing.  
“What the hell kind of reason is that?”  
His brother shrugged, “It was bound to happen. I just came of my own accord, that’s all.”  
“What was bound to happen? You don’t have to fight if you don’t want to, you know. This is a rebellion, not a legal war.”  
“And leave you to waste away?” he laughed lightly, “Who’s gonna make sure you don’t end up dying pitifully?”  
“Your talking back hasn’t changed at all.”  
His brother opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by a drawn out call, “Gintoki, are ya in here?”  
“Yea.”  
The rest of his team trooped in, all smiling sheepishly as if they were let on a huge secret that they weren’t supposed to know. They looked pretty worn out, and although the blood wasn’t as prominent on their clothes like on his and his brother’s white ones, there were still obvious dark spots, faintly red.  
“So, this is your brother.” Sakamoto finally broke the silence, and the rest’s eyes immediately glanced at Gintoki’s brother, before wandering politely away again.  
“Yea.” Gintoki grumbled, glaring at his him, whose smile had faded.  
“Damn.” Sakamoto threw back his head, laughing. He drew closer to Gintoki’s brother, tilting his head slightly, “He looks exactly like you, Kintoki.”  
“It’s Gintoki.” He snapped, crossing his arms over his chest, “It’s not a good thing.”  
“What’s your name?” Sakamoto asked, waving Gintoki off.  
“Sakata Akishi. Nice to meet you, Commander Sakamoto.” He offered his hand, smiling brightly.  
“Ahaha, that’s the first time anyone’s ever called me that.” Sakamoto laughed oddly, gripping Akishi’s hand to shake it vigorously. “Nice to meet you too.”  
Gintoki cleared his throat, “Well, say goodbye.” He stepped forwards, dragging Akishi out by the back of his collar, “I’m taking you back home.”  
“What?” Akishi protested, indignantly, “It took me forever to get here, nii-san!”  
“I don’t care. I’m not letting you fight.”  
“Wait one second, Gintoki.” Katsura called out, turning to face Gintoki, who had already reached the entrance of the tent.  
“What do you want, Zura?”  
“It’s Katsura, not Zura.” He muttered, before shaking his head and continuing, “You can’t carry him all the way back to our town.”  
“Watch me.”  
“Zura’s right, Kintoki.”Sakamoto added, “Besides, Aki-kun’s here on official business.”  
Gintoki glared down at Akishi, who gave him an apologetic smile, “Sorry, nii-san. But from now on, I’m this regiment’s strategist.”  
The grasp he had on Akishi’s collar slackened, letting Akishi slump to the ground. “What the fuck?”

Gintoki had decided to avoid Akishi at all costs. He knew it was childish and petty of him to do so, especially since Akishi seemed to try to cut short some of his duties to find him and talk. But every time he saw Akishi, he couldn’t control the annoyance that eventually bubbled over into rage—his mind understood the logic behind everything Akishi had told him the first day—it just seemed like his emotions didn’t give a shit what his mind thought.  
It helped that since Akishi was part of the strategy team, their training schedule was completely different, and he rarely saw him in the makeshift barracks. He heard that Akishi was quickly accepted as head strategist, even though he was only seventeen, and Gintoki let out a sigh of relief. As head strategist, it was unlikely that Akishi would ever go onto the battlefield, although he wasn’t sure why he was so reassured by this. It didn’t sit so well with him that Akishi was able to gain control of the whole regiment’s movements. Sure, he knew that his little brother was pretty smart, and he definitely preferred sitting in class with Shouyo than training, but he wasn’t that a genius. What had happened to the little boy that could barely form sentences when too excited? What had happened to the boy that clung and hid behind his leg when he met someone intimidating? What had happened to his little brother?  
Of course, the answer was obvious. Spending seven years apart meant that his brother was going to be a completely different person when he met him, but he hadn’t changed that much. So why had his little brother…?  
He wasn’t going to get any answers by avoiding Akishi like the plague, but he wasn’t ready to face him either. He figured that he’d talk to Akishi when he was good and ready. Unfortunately, he didn’t get that choice.  
“Nii-san, can I talk to you?”  
Gintoki turned around to meet the eyes of his little brother. He was going to ignore him, but the rest of the regiment was there as well, and Katsura was glaring at him, as if he would personally cut Gintoki apart if he brushed Akishi off. Since when had the two of them been close?  
“Fine.” Gintoki sighed, draining the last of his water. “Let’s go.”  
He ignored the twinge of guilt he felt as Akishi relaxed visibly.  
They crossed the field to duck into one of the empty sleeping tents. Gintoki spun sharply on his heel to fix his glare on Akishi, “What do you want?”  
“What do I—“ Akishi broke off, slightly taken aback.  
“You called me here for a reason, right?”  
“I guess… I just wanted to ask you what’s wrong.”  
“Wrong?”  
“Nii-san, you’re obviously avoiding me. Even Taka-nii can see that.”  
Gintoki let out a slow breath, lowering his gaze to the floor, “You could say that.”  
“So?”  
“I dunno…” Gintoki said, carefully, “I just need to get used to you…”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“What for, idiot?” he snorted.  
“For coming all the way out here, I guess.” Akishi shrugged helplessly, “For not believing that you’d come back on your own.”  
Gintoki’s head jerked up in surprise, “You were worried?”  
“Well, of course.” Akishi laughed slightly, rubbing the back of his head, “You’re my only family, after all.”  
“You idiot.” Gintoki mumbled, “I would have gone back eventually. You should’ve stayed with the town and protected it.”  
“Why?”  
“Why?” Gintoki repeated, incredulously, “Well, that’s your home, isn’t it? You’re going to have to protect your home.”  
“That town wasn’t my home anymore.” Akishi said, a hint of confidence creeping back into his voice, “My home is wherever you are, nii-san.”  
He fell silent, looking back down at the floor. He couldn’t meet Akishi’s hopeful and eager face without feeling ashamed—of all his actions for the past few weeks, and how he’d never actually gotten properly in contact with him for seven years.  
Gintoki finally spoke up again, “What if one day, I count the bodies at the end of the battle, and you’re one of them? What if I’m scared of losing you?”  
“Then let’s make a promise.”  
“Hm?”  
“You’re good at keeping promises, nii-san.” Akishi smiled, lifting his pinky finger up to Gintoki, “Let’s promise that we’ll never lose each other.”  
Gintoki smiled as well, laughing softly, “All right.” He linked his finger with Akishi’s, “It’s a promise.”

It was as if a weight had been lifted off his chest. Their relationship dynamic had changed since he had last seen Akishi, but it was no longer frigid awkwardness. In fact, he was delighted that Akishi was much more responsive to jokes and wasn’t as sensitive as he had been when he was younger. The rest of the team had been slightly confused at how quickly the two had gotten accustomed to each other, but it also wasn’t long before they didn’t even look up at their banter or arguments. For the first time in a while, Katsura noticed, Gintoki actually seemed human.  
The effect that Akishi had on their regiment was astounding, to Gintoki and the rest of the soldiers. They had been a scraggy group of idiots that were too stubborn to back down from the fight. But with Akishi, there was an actual plan to give them a bit of an upper hand against the Amanto. Their regiment had begun to win enough to be considered an actual revolution, rather than a pitiful rebellion.  
Gintoki was amazed that Akishi could even distinguish between the ugly fucks, let alone know each of their strengths and weaknesses enough to exploit them. His strategies were often simple, but effective, much to Gintoki’s amusement. Even now, in war, his little brother was more passive aggressive than brute.  
Like he had thought, Akishi and he never really went out on the battlefield together—Sakamoto made sure that Akishi was held back so that he didn’t charge stupidly into battle and injure himself.  
“What if you hit your head? Where will we be then?” he pointed out, ignoring Akishi’s protests.  
But when he did, Gintoki never strayed far from his side, always having one eye on the enemy and one eye on his little brother. He was determined to keep Akishi out of any danger, although he seemed to be able to handle himself quite well on the battlefield. They were lucky that the Amanto never had any real interest in their strengths, because those who did would have quickly noticed that the Shiroyasha was less of a demon.

“We’re getting completely hammered tonight!” Gintoki declared, pouring out what would have been his fifth cup of alcohol.  
“Hear, hear!” the rest of the team chimed in, raising their shots to a toast, before downing it quickly. The plan was to forget that they were at war, to pretend that everything was ok for just a moment.  
“You guys already started drinking?” Akishi said, walking into the tent, “That’s cold.”  
“Ah, look, Aki! Sit, sit.” Sakamoto let out a loud laugh, patting the mat beside him, “We just started.”  
Akishi sat down, crossing his legs and setting down the plastic container in his arms on the table. Katsura passed him a glass, pouring in the alcohol as he did so.  
“Did you get it?”  
“Yea.”  
Gintoki was already drunk enough to not notice the slight glance that the other four gave to each other. He leaned over, taking the glass from Akishi as it met his lips.  
He drank it in a single gulp, and said, “Kids should drink Koronamin C, idiot.”  
“Nii-san!” Akishi protested, snatching back the cup, “I’m not a kid anymore.”  
“You are until I tell you you’re not.” Gintoki said, shaking his head, “And you’re a hundred years too young to drink.”  
“Well, whatever.” Takasugi sighed, “Akishi, do the honors?”  
Akishi laughed, and pried open the top of the plastic container, “Happy birthday, nii-san.”  
“What the hell is that?” Gintoki asked, stretching slightly to see into the container, “Dango?”  
“I couldn’t get cake, but this old man cut me a good deal.” Akishi explained, “You like sweets, don’t you, nii-san?”  
“Yea and sweets are pretty hard to come across nowadays.” Katsura added.  
“Holy shit.” Gintoki laughed, reaching over to ruffle Akishi’s hair, “Thanks.”  
By the end of the day, the last of the dangos were gone, and everyone was drunk to the point where they passed out where they sat.  
Akishi could only laugh and sleep as well, when Gintoki blacked out on top of him, pinning him down and using him as a human body pillow.

Even with Akishi, their army grew smaller and smaller every passing day. Some were from deaths on the battlefield, but most were deserters; the people who fled to the cities already populated by Amanto, and renounced their heritage, to follow the new government. Every single soldier was valuable on the battlefield, and there was no way to spare men, even the ones with minor injuries fought.  
Gintoki could no longer rest assured that Akishi was safe back at the base camp. Instead, he fought harder than before, desperate to both end the war, and to protect his little brother, now always at his side in every battle. They were a vicious team but that just drew in the Amanto more, desperate to slaughter the last fortress that the Joui movement had—the Shiroyasha.  
Still, each day passed nearly as uneventfully as they had when Akishi was bound to the base camp. He just didn’t hear Akishi griping anymore about how he was perfectly capable of fighting as well. Gintoki didn’t want to admit it, but he was slightly more reassured with Akishi fighting beside him, because he could see Akishi was fine, not getting ambushed somewhere without anyone to protect him.  
The battles began to grow longer, and harsher. The Bakufu had decided to send their own army to fight against the Joui patriots, and the Enmi had joined the war as well. It was impossible for Gintoki to keep track of Akishi as well as fight. He learned not to drive himself into a panic attack when he could no longer see Akishi while fighting, and Akishi even seemed relieved that Gintoki was no longer breathing down his neck. But at the end of the battle, Gintoki made sure that the first thing he searched for was Akishi. Often, he’d be flitting here and there across the battlefield, tending to the injured, and gathering the dead.  
Once, Akishi was nowhere to be seen, and Gintoki had nearly strangled Sakamoto, before Katsura had told him he had gone ahead to report their situation to the doctors. It was then they, even Gintoki himself, had realized how precious Akishi actually was to him.

With the government breathing down their necks now, the Joui patriots hardly had any down time at all. Every second that they were up on the roof, reclined back and staring up at the inky black sky was precious.  
“I’ve decided.” Sakamoto announced, “When this war’s over, I want to go to space. I want to buy a huge ship and fly around in it, making a name of myself.”  
“You get motion sick from swings.” Gintoki pointed out.  
“I’ll deal with that then.” Sakamoto dismissed, “What about you guys?”  
“Dunno.” Gintoki said, “Go back to town, probably.”  
“And I’ll end up going wherever nii-san goes.” Aki chimed in. He hesitated, before admitting, “Space does sound nice, though.”  
Gintoki glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, “Hm?”  
“I just think it’d be nice to see what we’re trying so hard to protect from afar.” Aki laughed quietly, “And fishing for stars doesn’t sound that bad either.”  
“Ok, if that’s what you want.”  
“Nii-san?”  
“We’ll go. If you want to.” Gintoki said, “Once this war is all done and over with, we’ll go to space and fish for stars.”  
“Promise?”  
“Promise.”

Gintoki had sworn to never lose Akishi. He forgot that promise every time on the battlefield, where the blood roared in his ears and energy surged through his veins. He no longer spared a bit of thought to where his little brother could be.  
The war was already lost—but the Joui were too stubborn to let it end, too stubborn to back down and surrender. It seemed like the war would indeed drag on until every single one of them were wiped from the face of the earth. Gintoki was tired. He was tired of losing people he had fought and trained beside, he was tired of the constant threat of death hanging over his head. But Sakamoto, Takasugi, Katsura, and Aki remained, so he remained as well.  
He hardly blinked when he couldn’t see Akishi on the battlefield after the fighting had died down. He simply raked his gaze over the barren wasteland to check if he had passed over a flash of white, maybe hidden behind a bulking mass of gray he was helping limp over the field. His sight landed on an oddly large mass of people, huddled around something. As he drew closer, they glanced fearfully over their shoulders at him, and a single, broken syllable echoed in his mind. No.  
His feet moved on their own, sword heavy in his hand, as he crossed the battlefield without anything processing in his mind. He stumbled over corpses, and he caught himself without glancing down. Gintoki might as well have been in an endless gray hall, and at the end of it, the group of men standing in a ragged circle, looking back over their shoulders.  
He came to a silent stop behind them, and they pulled back to clear a path. They’re speaking. He can see. But none of it meant anything to him.  
It’s Akishi, of course. Lying on his back. Covered in blood. Eyes closed.  
“Get up, idiot.” he presses out, his voice barely a dry rasp.  
The men disperse as he sank down beside Akishi, reaching out with a tentative hand to touch his arm. Akishi stirred, coughing hoarsely. Gintoki let out a huffing breath of relief.  
Akishi’s eyelids flickered slightly, before he opened them with difficulty.  
“Aki?” Gintoki asked, gently.  
Akishi turned his head towards the sound of his name, “Nii-san?”  
Gintoki let out a short laugh with the breath that had been trapped in his chest, “Yea, I’m here. You’ve really let yourself get beat up, Aki.”  
A small smile worked itself onto Akishi’s face, but quickly turned down into a grimace. Gintoki’s grip on Akishi’s fingers grew tighter, as if he was trying to ground Akishi through pure will.  
“Nii-san… I can’t…” Akishi took a shuddering breath, “I can’t… see your face…”  
“It’s ok.” Gintoki assured him, brushing away a stray strand of hair, “You’re ok.”  
“Nii-san… what’s…”  
“Nothing. We’ve won. We’re gonna go back home now, ok?” the lies fell easily from Gintoki’s tongue, as he continued to smile. “We’re gonna go home, and get on the stupid ship with Sakamoto, and catch you your stars.”  
“Really?”  
“Really.”  
“Are you tired… nii-san?”  
“Why, Aki?”  
“Because… I am…” Akishi’s breaths were growing shorter and further apart, “Is it… night…?”  
“Yea. Don’t worry. Go to sleep. I’ll stay here with you.”  
Akishi sighed softly, eyes slipping closed.  
For Sakata Gintoki, the war ends right there.

He fights without any concept of time. He becomes a true demon—one even feared by the soldiers that fought beside him. His eyes are always blank and dead, and he never pauses for a break. Most men stopped to eat, to sleep, to take a piss. But on the battlefield, Gintoki was a monster, slaying without a second thought, fighting with a broken sword and body.  
But no matter how hard they try, the war ends within a month. The Joui patriots are either arrested or scattered, and the Shiroyasha dies, buried in the remnants of war.  
There was no place on earth for a person like Gintoki. He had no money, no status, he was a wanted man, and all the Joui soldiers limped back home with wounds to lick and their tails tucked between their legs.  
Gintoki wanders—he has no home to return to, and no one to make a home for him. Takasugi had disappeared at the end of the war, Sakamoto had fled to the skies, buying a spaceship to be a merchant, and Katsura was arrested. But he wasn’t worried for any of them. They could manage on their own. Gintoki didn’t know how long he would last, but he walked without any thought, or any reason to stop.  
He collapses in a graveyard, his back pressed against a stone monument, and his sword still clutched in his hand. He falls into a fitful sleep, the images of war that had never bothered him before, flashing behind his eyelids, and haunting his dreams.  
When he jerks awake, there’s someone in front of the monument, talking quietly to the stone, and squatting to place an offering. Gintoki can smell the warm red-bean buns, and for the first time, his stomach growls, and drool gathers in his mouth.  
He swallows thickly, and asks, “Hey, granny, can I eat that?”  
The old woman looks surprised, but only for a moment, “You have to ask my husband.”  
Gintoki didn’t hesitate before swiping a bun from the plate, and scarfing it down.  
“Well, what did my husband say?”  
Gintoki mutters, “Dunno. The dead don’t talk.”


	2. Death of the Shiroyasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a recap of the first few episodes of Gintama, honestly. And a bit of internal turmoil, really....

The next couple of years passed in a haze of low paying jobs, alcohol, and sleep for Gintoki. It wasn't as if he had any credentials to get a proper job, nor did he have a special skill other than fighting. And under the sword-ban, ronin weren't needed anymore. But Gintoki managed, like he always did, with sub-par efforts and even lower results.  
Life was hard to get used to. In battle, everything was constantly moving, clashing. It made his blood boil and body come to life. In the house above the old woman's bar--everything came to a stop. A single day dragged on through eternity, a single moment stifling him in a hazy heat. It always felt like there was wool under his eyes, and hands around his neck.  
Gintoki drank to forget. Images of the war that had never bothered him before began to haunt his dreams, and so he drank until there was nothing but blackness. He couldn't remember the last time he drank because he didn't want to forget--the memories crowded out by the blood that drenched his past. Gintoki lost count of how many times he woke up, covered in his own vomit and a bitter hangover tormenting him for the rest of the day. But it was better than nothing. Without the stench, without the pain, he knew he would have felt every single death that he encountered on the battlefield. It would begin as an aching twist in his gut, rising up to wrap around his chest, constricting, slowly, but surely. He drank.  
It came to a point, where he was numb. Nothing came to mind when he tried thinking of the war. Nothing, when he tried to think back on happier days. It was as if his mind was a blank slate, wiped clean of everything that made him /him/. All that remained were straggling memories of the war that he couldn't let go of, even with his mind addled in a cocktail of sake and depression. He could still remember the faces of his friends before the war reached them, while there were still life in their eyes. 

He could remember the times when they drank to celebrate, and woke up the next morning slightly cranky and unwilling to train. He remembered the first time his heart stopped when he thought Takasugi was dead.  
He couldn't remember Akishi's face.  
He remembered the small details--the way his fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword whenever he was nervous, the faint stench of blood that was constantly interlaced with his own, the slight smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth every time he and Takasugi bickered... But he couldn't remember his face. Akishi was a vague memory, a blurred figure in the back of his mind--the streak of white he saw the first time they met in the battlefield. The harder Gintoki tried to remember the actual features of Akishi, the fainter the image became. He tried to stare at the mirror--knowing fully well that Akishi was almost a smaller duplicate of him--to no avail. Everything seemed slightly wrong, in ways Gintoki couldn't even explain. His eyes weren't alive enough, his face too hollow--there was no laughter to speak of. But what he did remember only made him want to forget--splattered in blood and unshed tears.

When Gintoki met Shinpachi, it was one of the rare days he wasn't drunk in the middle of the day. Instead, he was sitting in a slightly seedy cafe, somewhat enjoying the parfait that sat in front of him, and the lack of a hangover. The nightmares had faded to quiet terrors that invaded his dreams once in a while, and he was managing to scrape together a living, although he was three months due in rent.  
He glanced up as a person slammed into his table, spilling the parfait all over the table. It was the waiter--a unremarkable teenage boy with an outdated haircut and glasses. Gintoki followed the boy's exhausted stare, leading to a group of leopard-headed Amanto, jeering at him. Even worse, was the manager, profusely apologizing the aliens, then yelling at the teenager, comparing him to less than a chimpanzee.  
Gintoki pushed himself away from the seat, holding up the parfait glass. He sighed, setting it down. There was no point staying quiet at the establishment--they were all assholes. And he didn't have any more sweets to settle him.  
"Gya, gya, gya, gya, you're too fucking loud." Gintoki said, stepping in front of the teen, "What are you, in heat, you bastards?"  
He took in the slightly confused look of the aliens, "My parfait spilled because of you." he placed his hand on the hilt of his wooden sword, "And because of my high blood pressure," he crouched slightly, "my doctor said I'm only allowed to have one a week!" he shouted, racing forwards. One swing, and the Amanto were on the floor, twitching.  
Gintoki snorted with derision, and turned to leave. He glanced back at the teen, still on the floor, "Tell the manager the parfait was delicious."  
He was already halfway down the road when he heard a faint shout behind him. Gintoki ignored it, and drove on. All he wanted to to was get home and get the rest of his allotted sugar.   
"Wait!" the teenager was running alongside his scooter.  
"Oh, I forgot that." Gintoki nodded to the wooden sword, "But you didn't have to bring that back to me. Keep it. I got it on a school trip."  
That wasn't completely a lie. It was the sword that he had gotten for Akishi, and he didn't have much of a use for it anymore. He just managed to sound to care much less than he actually did.

It turned out that Shinpachi had a gorilla of an older sister, and somehow, against his will, he managed to get tangled up in their life. He wanted to not care. He really did. But he couldn't tear himself away from Shinpachi and his sister, both working so hard to make ends meet. It reminded him of the bright hope that they all had in the beginning of the war. Shinpachi stuck around with him, because he thought that Gintoki would be able to teach him about the way of the samurai. Gintoki reluctantly let 

him stay because the few minutes that they were soaring through the sky to save Otae was the most alive he had felt in the past few years.  
He knew Shinpachi regretted it. He obviously hadn't thought that Gintoki would be a lazy near-freeloader with an alcohol problem and high blood sugar. Gintoki wouldn't have blamed him if Shinpachi wanted to leave--Gintoki could hardly handle himself. But that was when he met the tiny Amanto.  
Just because she was tiny didn't mean that she wasn't freakishly strong. The first lasting memory of her, was running over her with his scooter, then her, later remarking, "You didn't think I'd die from being just by a scooter, yes?"  
Gintoki was doubtful, but all that was forgotten when she stopped his scooter with one hand: "You're gonna leave a young girl bein' chased by thugs alone?" she snapped, the scooter's wheels turning futilely in the air.  
"From where I come from, we don't call people who can stop scooters with one hand little girls. We call them mountain gorillas." Gintoki retorted.  
As luck would have it, he ended up kind of adopting the Amanto girl, Kagura. And thus, he ended up with a bottomless pit for food to feed, and a life that was filled with constant bickering and running around a bit too much. Gintoki had to admit--he had missed it.

Despite that they were all broke, Kagura always complained of hunger, and Shinpachi began discarding his role as straight-man, they still made a good team. Gintoki had been running the odd jobs before their presence in his life, but with them, they were the /Yorozuya/.  
Katsura's voice after he let Shinpachi and Kagura be captured by the Harusame nagged at the back of his head, "You can't save everyone, my friend." he had known Zura to always be a bit mature and too serious for his age, but this time, he sounded exhausted. And Gintoki understood. It was like the air had been deflated from their lungs for the past few years, and the center of the chest, where the heart lay, had a sword pierced through it.  
Gintoki knew what Katsura said was true, but he was determined to prove him otherwise. He may have complained about having to keep them fed and happy, and he may have voiced his annoyance at so many of their actions. But the two, without their knowledge, had gotten him back from a choking darkness, and slowly, but surely, were piecing him together again. So Gintoki swore to himself, over and over again, that he would protect Kagura and Shinpachi, no matter what happened, until all his doubts were drowned out, and no other promise cluttered his mind but the one. And as those promises faded, the final nightmares of the war, and even dreams of the past stopped, stranding him to live in the present.  
Gintoki was no longer the Shiroyasha.


	3. And It Goes On and On...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yea... I'm sorry, but it's just gonna drag on like this for a while... and a lot of this is ooc I think...  
> I don't know. I can't think anymore.

  Gintoki stumbled into the entrance of the Yorozuya office, groaning as tripping jarred his nerves, making his head pound. The stench of alcohol hung around him like a noxious gas, making him even queasier. He just wanted to take a quick shower, crawl under his covers and go to sleep.  
  "About time you came in." Shinpachi's voice sounded abnormally loud, "Gin-san, we have a customer."  
  "Eh?" Gintoki muttered, "What kind of customer comes in this early in the morning?"  
  "Gin-san, it's midday." Shinpachi said, shutting the door behind him, "Anyways, he seems pretty desperate."  
  "Fine" Gintoki hobbled into the main room, relieved that the room was dimly lit, despite the sun streaming in through the window. He collapsed onto the sofa, and crossed his legs, squinting at the customer who sat in front of him. He glanced up at Gintoki, but quickly lowered his gaze back to his hands that were fidgeting with the cloth of his pants. His eyes flitted to Kagura, who was staring intently back, then to Shinpachi.  
  "U-um..." he said, "I... I came here because..."  
  They kept silent, waiting for him to continue.  
  "I... came here because I want you to find my sister." the man blurted out, then sighed, like a weight was lifted off his chest.  
  "Huh?"  
  "I don't normally like to go to people for help," he shook his head frantically, "not that I think lowly of others! I'm just... awkward."  
  The three of them nodded. The customer was still fidgeting with his clothes, chewing on his lip.  
  "I... I don't really like going out, but I think I need help now..." he fell silent, and didn't seem to plan to continue.  
  "What happened?" Kagura asked.  
  "Well, recently..." the customer said, "My sister has been associating with... odd people."  
  "Odd?"  
  "She's been going out at night a lot with them... and she always comes strange."  
  "Well, it's not uncommon for women to want to be independent."  
  "No." he shook his head, "She's come home drunk or high before, but this was... different."  
  Gintoki nodded for him to continue.  
  "This was like... she forgot who she is." he said, "The police would bring her home, and she wouldn't even know what happened to her, or her name... she was lucky to have her wallet every time, but I think she might have been pick pocketed or something, and doesn't know her way home."  
  Kagura hummed, shaking her head, "So she forgets everything about her, yes? Even you?"  
  "Yea." he hesitated, "Her memory usually comes back after a while, but I'm not so sure what might be happening this time."  
  "Ok." Gintoki sighed, rubbing his temple, "We'll look around for her."  
  "Oh, thank you!" the customer exclaimed. He held out a yellow envelope, "This has all her information, including a picture and forward pay. I'll come back with the rest of the money later."  
  Gintoki opened the envelope, peering inside. The picture showed a young woman, her arm thrown across the man's shoulders, beaming at the camera, but her face was too hollow--her cheeks caved in from malnutrition, hair dry and dyed multiple times. The man was smiling too, although his was forced, with none of the joy reaching his eyes. Gintoki narrowed his eyes, and slid the photo back into the envelope. "We'll get back to you with any news."

  Gintoki yawned again, and blinked quickly, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes. The air was warm, and heavy, lulling him into a stupor that was hard to snap out of.  
  "Is this really the place?" Kagura asked, stretching. "There's nothing here but regular people."  
  "That's what I heard." Shinpachi nodded, "Some people have seen her come around here often with someone else."  
  "Seems a little plain for underground drug dealing, doesn't it?" Gintoki was interrupted by another yawn, "You'd expect a shady 5 o'clock TV alleyway, not a cafe."  
  Kagura nodded, "And we can't even get food."  
  "We don't have the money." Shinpachi sighed, "We promised all the money would go into the investigation until he can pay us."  
  "Well..." Gintoki blinked at the menu, "He won't miss money to buy one parfait..."  
  "Oh, no fair!" Kagura protested, "I want something too!"  
  "We'll run the money dry with your stomach." Gintoki snapped, "Just suck on your pickled seaweed, brat."  
  "Neither of you are getting anything." Shinpachi said, tucking away the envelope, "If you keep doing this, we won't have enough money to run any of the investigation.”  
  “It’s not like it’s been going anywhere.” Gintoki muttered, glancing over at the door again, “This is the only lead we’ve had for a while, and even this doesn’t seem to lead to anything.”  
  Shinpachi nodded, frowning, “I thought that there would be more leads than what we have, but all the leads end up in dead ends.”  
  “We should have just left this to detectives.” Gintoki sighed, turning back around, “This is only going to waste our time.”  
  “Gin-chan, Gin-chan.” Kagura hissed, tugging his sleeve.  
  “What? I told you, you can’t buy anything.”  
  “No, isn’t that her?” Kagura pointed at a woman cautiously entering the café. Gintoki glanced down at the picture that they were given, then back at the woman.  
  “Well, I’ll be damned.” He glanced at the picture again—the woman had dyed her hair a different color again, but it was definitely the same person. “Well, Pattsuan, what do you say we do?”  
  "Why are you asking me?” Shinpachi snapped, “Didn’t you have a plan?”  
  Gintoki shrugged, “I never expected her to show up.”  
  “We can just go up to her and tell her everything, yes?”  
  “And scare her away?” Shinpachi shook his head, “How well do you think going up to a person and saying “hello, you’re not who you really think you are” will work?”  
  “And what do you suggest?” Kagura said, crossing her arms, “You don’t have an idea.”  
  “Wait, who’s that?” Gintoki asked, nodding to a man that strode across the room, to meet the woman, wrapping his arm around her waist, and pulling her towards a booth.  
  “Maybe he’s part of whatever she’s gotten into.” Shinpachi suggested, narrowing his eyes, “Either way, it won’t be easy getting her to go anywhere with someone else.”  
  “Then we should follow her.” Kagura suggested.  
  “It’ll be a pity if we can’t find her again.” Gintoki agreed. Luckily, the two had settled in a booth that was within eyesight, and he didn’t have to turn awkwardly around to check if the woman was still there.  
  “And after that?”  
  “After that…” Gintoki trailed off with a sigh, “We’ll see.”  
  “So much for a plan.” Shinpachi muttered.

  Gintoki didn’t know for how much longer they had stayed at the cafe, but it was long enough to have dirty looks shot at them. Eventually, to Kagura’s delight, they ended up having to order something each. He was finishing up the last of his parfait, when the two left the cafe, the man’s arm still around the woman’s waist. Gintoki watched them with a critical eye as they passed—the man handled her like he was scared of what would happen if he didn’t steer her in the right direction. It was strange, even for the request that they had been given.  
  They let the pair get as far as halfway down the block, before they got up to leave as well. The two were moving quickly, the woman striding forwards, her eyes fixed on something down the road, but the man walked with a jerk in his step, checking the faces of each person that they passed by on the streets before quickly looking away.  
Gintoki let Shinpachi and Kagura squabble in the background, stopping every couple of buildings to stare at a store display or snap at the two of them to stop. The man was nervous about something, and Gintoki didn’t want him too suspicious. They weren’t exactly the most inconspicuous group, and silently following them through the streets would be much more alarming than “casually” walking down the streets. He hoped they weren’t too conspicuous—he wanted this job to end cleanly, and there was no guaranteeing that if they ended up with a suspicious target.  
  Shinpachi and Kagura glanced at each other as the two ducked into another building. Gintoki stopped, staring at the door strangely. His feet wouldn’t move forwards—it was as if the building was physically repelling him, all his senses were alight, the tips of his fingers tingling.  
  “What are you doing?” Kagura asked, shoving past him, and opening the door, “Are you waiting for an invitation?” She entered the building, letting the door swing shut behind her. Gintoki mentally shook himself out, and pushed the door open as well, completely unprepared for the blast of air and sound that followed. He hardly noticed Shinpachi step in behind him, as he took in the scene before him—he didn’t know what to think anymore.


End file.
